


Sleeping In

by f0rever15elf



Series: The Seamstress [5]
Category: The Great Wall (2017)
Genre: F/M, Pedro Pascal - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: A lazy winter morning with Pero and his seamstress.
Relationships: Pero Tovar/Reader, Pero Tovar/You
Series: The Seamstress [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976128
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Sleeping In

Life stops for no one. Not for the grieving widow or the euphoric new father. It does not stop for the trees in the grove nor the deer who graze in the meadow the trees encircle. It parades on constantly, ever forward, never back. Time forever has been, and forever will be, a constant.

The parade of time demands many things. It demands early rising to gather wood to stoke the fire and water to fill the barrel. It necessitates many hours spent tilling the earth and nurturing it to reap the rewards of a bountiful harvest, and equal time spent working to make coin enough to support a family. It requires acknowledgment in the middle of the night when the soft cries of a newborn child demand a mother’s attention. It demands tenacity as the seasons ever rotate on, fall to winter and winter to spring then summer. 

Sometimes, time feels like a sprint. Like it’s some frantic race to the end that we know nothing about, all we know is that we must get there. It wears us down and leaves a weariness in our bones that is so hard to abate. And because of this, it is important to remember that sometimes, it’s okay to slow down. To take an hour or two to just… be. After all, time is constant.

~~~~~

The first rays of the morning sun slowly begin to peek through the shutters above your bed. All is quiet, even more so than usual as dawn crests over the snow covered countryside. The house is peaceful, the only sounds the crackle of the fire burning low in the hearth and the gentle snores of the man laying next to you, holding you in his arms as he does every night. A gentle smile dances across your lips at the serenity of it all and you revel in it for just a moment until you feel that ever present drive to get up and begin your day. So much to do.

You try your best to not wake your husband beside you, but it’s a futile effort. Years of being a light sleeper for the sake of his own survival have made it nearly impossible to not disturb him when you stir in the mornings. His arm around your waist tightens, pulling you back against him as he nuzzles against your neck. The warmth of his breath washing over your skin sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and pulls a smile to your lips.

“Hermosa,” he rasps in a voice still so thick with sleep that you wonder if he’s truly awake or not.

“Shhhh, sleep my love. You rest and I’ll start the day.” You keep your voice low, not wishing to wake the babe sleeping peacefully in her crib near the hearth. She was finally sleeping through the night, and you and Pero took every advantage of it, letting her rest as long as she could.

“Stay,” he demands, the grip around your waist not lessening.

“But the morning chores-”

“Will be there when we wake. Later. An hour or two will not bother the livestock. The wood pile will still be there and the water will still be in the well. Stay with me, like this, just a bit longer.” His scruffy mustache and beard tickle at the skin of your neck as you let out a small sigh, settling back against him. He hums in content as he feels you relax, his grip slackening only just. You use this to your full advantage, rolling over in his arms to face him. He cracks open one eye to see you smiling at him as your hand moves to brush the unruly dark locks from his face. He would need a trim soon to keep the hair from his eyes. “It’s rude to stare, amor.”

You let out a soft hum, barely hearing the statement as you get lost in the features of his face. The ridges and lines, the smooth planes and arches. Your fingers trace feather light across his skin, memorizing every line, every scar. Finally, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his slightly parted lips and the tip of his nose, earning a tightening of his arm around your waist once again. So possessive and protective.

“Sleep, mi esposa. It is not often this time is afforded to us.” He couldn’t be more right about that. Especially with winter on the way, you and Pero had been busy preparing the house for the cold months. Several more furs and blankets needed sewing to keep your precious daughter safe and warm. What’s even more, since your baby girl had been born, sleep was a rare commodity, and while Pero is excellent with taking care of her, there are certain roles only you could fulfill. Such as keeping her tiny little tummy full. She is definitely Pero’s child, scarfing down her meals like she would never eat again, a habit Pero maintains to this very day. A smile tugs once more at the corner of your lips as your thoughts wander off to your precious little family, and how fortunate you were that day that Pero strode through your doorway.

Your eyelids grow heavy in the comforting embrace of your husband, and you snuggle closer to him, pulling the furs up to your ear as you tuck yourself under his chin. He hums, holding you snug against him as you listen to the beat of his heart in his chest. Here is warm and safe and home. Perhaps an extra hour or two of sleep wouldn’t hurt after all.

Mornings like this, time seems to slow, the passing of the sand through the hourglass languid and lazy as it, like you, has nowhere to rush to. These mornings feel as though you are removed from time itself, existing in a state where all that matters are you, your husband, and your babe by the fire. The stress of day to day life melts away with the strong sound of Pero’s heart beneath your ear and the responsibilities of the land pause for but a moment, warded off by the feeling of strong arms holding you like the most precious of gems. Yes, time continues on, as it always does, but some mornings it moves a bit slower, just for you. 


End file.
